Getting my own place wasn’t a viable option, either. My Cadogan stipend was nice, but it wasn’t enough to cover rent in Chicago without a roommate. I wasn’t ready for the burbs, and I certainly didn’t want to bring my supernatural drama to some new roommate’s door. And unless I lived in Hyde Park, having my own place didn’t solve the time problem—the fact that I’d still have travel time between me and a Cadogan crisis.
I could move in with my grandfather, and there was no question that he’d invite me in, but with me came my baggage—including being the near-victim of a serial killer, the recent recipient of a death threat, and the new guard for Cadogan House. Moving into Cadogan posed its own set of problems, its meddlesome Master key among them. But I’d never need to worry about troubling someone who couldn’t handle it. If there was anything pleasant I could say about Ethan Sullivan, it was that he was equipped to deal with supernatural drama.
I hadn’t, of course, informed Ethan that I was considering moving into the House. I imagined three possible responses to the news, none of which I was interested in experiencing.
At best, I figured I’d be offered cool approval that I’d finally reached the decision a proper Sentinel would have reached a week ago. At worst, I bet on vitriol, on his expressing serious concerns that I was going to spy on Cadogan or sabotage the House from the inside.
But most disturbing was the third possibility—that he’d ask me again to be his Consort. I was pretty sure we’d moved past that idea, the fact that we’d happily avoided each other for the last week evidence enough, but this boy was more stubborn than most.
So I planned to work through Helen, who, in her position as Initiate Liaison, also coordinated new vampires’ moves into the House, and let word reach Ethan through channels. But working through Helen meant apologies. Big-time apologies, since the last time I’d seen her, I yelled at and insulted her, and prompted a sorceress to kick her out of our house. To fix things, I opted for a simple, classic strategy—bribery. I was going to buy my way into her good graces with a dozen pink-and-white birthday cupcakes. I’d repackaged them in a shiny pink bakery box, and I was ready to make the drop at her office as soon as I reached Cadogan.
But before I did that . . . I had my own business to attend to, namely in the form of a private vampire fashion show. After I’d showered, but before I’d slipped into the requisite Cadogan black, I slipped my birthday ensemble from its hangers and donned the leathers. The suit, such as it was, fit like a glove, like it had been molded for my body. My hair in its high ponytail, the sword in my hands, I looked pretty fierce. I looked like I was ready for serious vampire combat. That was patently untrue, of course, but it didn’t make posing in front of the mirror any less fun.
I was still in front of the mirror, sword in hand, when my beeper began to vibrate. I jumped at the sound, thinking someone had walked in on the spectacle of my vampire dress-up. When I realized the source of the noise, I grabbed the beeper from the top of my bureau and scanned the screen: CADGN. BREACH. GREEN. 911.
Breach: Uninvited supernaturals on the premises.
Green: Ethan’s code. He was in trouble, needed assistance, etc.
911: Quickly now, Sentinel.
There were footsteps in the hallway. Beeper in hand, I opened the bedroom door and peeked into the hall. Catcher, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, walked toward me. I had to give him credit—he didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at my ensemble.
“You got the page?”
I nodded. But before I could ask how he knew about it, he continued, “The meeting we discussed, with all the vamps? The one Sullivan needed to schedule? It’s happening right now, and not by invitation.”
“Shit,” I said, moving my left hand to the handle of the katana, and ignoring for the moment the fact that he had this information before I did. “I need to change.”
Catcher shook his head. “Today’s the day you bluff,” he said. “I’ll get your car ready.”
I stared at him. “Are you kidding? Ethan will shit if I show up dressed like this in front of other Cadogan vampires, much less other Houses.”
Catcher shook his head. “You stand Sentinel, not Ethan. You do your job the way you do it. And if you’re going to bluff your way into keeping Ethan safe, would you rather do it in leather or a suit and prissy heels? You need to show teeth today.”
Because his words echoed my own thoughts, I didn’t argue.
He offered me advice via cell phone the entire ride to Cadogan House: Look everyone in the eye. Keep my left hand on the handle of the sword, thumb at the guard, and only pull the right hand over if I needed to be seriously aggressive. Keep my body between Ethan and whatever pointy thing—be it blade or teeth—was threatening him. When Catcher started to repeat himself, I cut him off.
“Catcher, this isn’t me. I’m not prepared for warfare. I was a grad student. But he gave me this job, presumably, after four hundred years of experience, because he thought I could bring something to the table, something he thought could trump my lack of training. I appreciate the advice, and I appreciate the training, but it’s the eleventh hour, and if I haven’t learned it by now, I’m not likely to learn it in the next five minutes.” I swallowed, my chest tight. “I’ll do what I can. It’s been asked of me, and I agreed to stand Sentinel, and I’ll do what I can.”
I decided to confess the thought that had tickled the back of my mind, but hadn’t yet voiced. That the vampire inside me had a mind of her own. That sometimes it felt like we hadn’t merged, not truly, but rather like she lived inside me.
Maybe because it sounded ridiculous, I found it harder to vocalize than I’d imagined. “I think—I think—”
“What, Merit?”
“She feels kind of separate from me.”
Silence, then: “She?”
He spoke the word as if it was a question, but I had the sense he knew exactly what I meant. “The vampire. My vampire. Me. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
Silence again, then: “Probably nothing.”
Blocks passed, and then I was turning onto Woodlawn, cell phone still pinched between shoulder and ear.
“If you need to look threatening, can you silver your eyes? Pull down you fangs? On purpose, I mean?”
I hadn’t tried, but imagined I’d learned enough in the last week about what silvered my eyes to be able to manufacture the effect. Method vampirism, as it was.
“I think so, yeah.”
“Good. Good.” I pulled the car up to the curb in front of Cadogan House. There were no guards at the gate. The House looked empty, and that foretold nothing good.
“Shit,” I muttered and grabbed the door handle. “The House looks deserted.”
“Merit, listen.”
I paused, one hand on the door, the other wrapped around my cell phone.
“Cadogan House hasn’t had a Sentinel in two centuries. You got the job because he believed in you. Do the job. Nothing more, nothing less.”
I nodded, although he couldn’t see it. “I’ll be fine.”
Or I wouldn’t, I thought, as I threw the phone in the passenger seat, walked down the empty sidewalk, and tugged at the hem of the leather jacket I’d zipped over the midriff-baring bodice.
Either way, we’d find out soon enough.
The front door was partially ajar, the first floor empty of vampires. I heard rumblings upstairs and, with a hand on my sword, took the staircase. Luc stood on the landing, legs braced, arms crossed, a katana belted on his left side.
I gave him a nod, waited for him to look over my ensemble. When he’d taken me in, I asked, “Where are we?”
He inclined his head toward the ballroom, and we walked together toward it. His voice was all business. “Ethan tried to schedule a meeting about the murders. He invited representatives from Grey, Navarre. The meet was supposed to happen later tonight. Then the Rogues found out. Noah Beck—he’s their rep—showed up half an hour ago.”
A chunk of time had passed then, since the page. I did need to move into Cadogan House.
“They’re pissed about not being included,” he continued, his expression pulled tight, “about our existence being leaked—no, announced—to the press.” Clearly Ethan wasn’t the only one who doubted Celina’s decision making in that regard.
We stopped in front of the closed ballroom doors, and I planted my hands on my hips, slid him a glance. “How many?”
“Twelve Rogues, maybe thirty vamps from Cadogan. Scott Grey and four of his people; they showed up early for the meet. Lindsey, Jules, and Kelley are in there, but they’re hanging back.”
I lifted brows. “You ever think the ratio of six guards to three hundred Cadogan vamps ain’t quite right?”
“It’s peacetime,” he explained, irritation in his voice. “We hold too many swords, and we’re showing animosity, risking war.” He shrugged. “Too few, of course, and we risk a Rogue taking a shot at Ethan.”